Fine Lines and Photographs
by cacamilis
Summary: "I knew you'd be here." Draco visits Harry shortly after Sirius' death, teetering on the edge of a major decision. What if he were to be become entangled with the other side? But in the Dark Lord's high society of secrets and deception, it's a hell of a long way to fall... Drarry.
1. The Seed That's Sown

**A/N: Well... here we go, I guess. :) This begins at the very start of the summer after fifth year with no major plot digressions (yet) except that Grimmauld Place is unused except for emergency Order meetings.**

**Disclaimer: All respective characters/places/rights belong to JK Rowling, all that jazz.**

A slim blonde figure made its silent way through the dank, dingy corridors of number 12, Grimmauld Place, trailing its pale fingertips along the banister of the stair it ascended. The long forgotten characters in the dark portraits pretended not to watch from behind half closed eyelids as the moonlight shone through a chink in the curtains across the intruder's features, throwing them into stark relief for but a moment.

Continuing past closed doors, the handsome boy seemed to glide rather than walk, completely invisible in the quiet hallway but for his silver white hair. He paused before the last door on the left, pushing it open gently; slowly. His storm cloud grey eyes swept the entire room from end to end with cool disdain, finally landing on the hunched form sat on the floor against the foot of the bed. Even with the only most cursory of glances, he noticed everything about the average looking, boxy room. The overflowing shoebox of crumpled, aged letters sat on the dirty windowsill with the lid askew, the coat of arms etched into the oak window frame, the scorch mark on the floor in front of the wardrobe, the photographs scattered about the desk devoid of books. He averted his eyes in distaste from the posters of scantily clad Muggle girls on shiny metal and chrome motorcycles, noting the Slytherin memorabilia with approval. The faded bedspread showed the Slytherin crest in green and silver and was rumpled, clearly recently slept in.

He waited in the doorway of the messy room to be noticed, not out of courtesy, but for the sense of discomfort his unannounced presence would surely cause. Growing impatient, he sharply rapped a staccato rhythm against the door with his knuckles.

Snapping his head up in surprise, the other boy's cheeks were tear-stained, his dark hair greasy and pushed back off of his forehead, baring his infamous scar. He visibly deflated even further when he registered who had intruded upon his private moment. "What could you possibly want, Malfoy?" His voice was thick and monotonous, flat as the glazed expression in his eyes.

"Why, merely the pleasure of your company, Potter." Draco's arrogant upbringing did not allow for empathy with someone of Harry Potter's stature. He stepped forward and closed the door quietly behind him, dropping his insolent smile and leaning back against the solid wood. "I knew you'd be here." His tone was quiet this time, somewhat apologetic.

"And?" Harry's gaze never once moved from the scorch mark on the worn floorboards opposite him, his knuckles white around the Slytherin scarf on his lap, studiously avoiding looking at the moving black and white picture by his right knee.

"I just came to talk." Moving into the centre of the room, Draco sat down cross legged on the cold floor, placing his wand two feet in front of him, halfway between himself and Harry.

Harry blinked several times, slowly raising his head to look his visitor in the face. His eyes, normally jewel green, stood out even more from their red tinged surroundings. "Why?"

"I'm sorry... about Sirius." It wasn't necessarily true, but diplomacy was required given the nature of the situation. "I know you were close." A beat of silence followed. He forced aside his unease and came out with what was on his mind. "Tell me why you do it. Fighting the Dark Lord, even after all that it's cost you. I want to listen." Interest flickered dully in Harry's eyes, and Draco held his gaze for a moment.

"You could kill me. We're alone; no one knows I'm here. Why haven't you?" Harry straightened his back and imbued a normal amount of volume into his voice, drawing out of his melancholy slightly.

"I won't. That wouldn't do either of us any good." Draco felt odd being so candid with someone he'd always considered an enemy.

Harry nodded wearily, looking down at the photo beside him. It showed Lily, James and Sirius when they were about sixteen laughing and smiling into the camera somewhere on the Hogwart's grounds. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Sometimes I don't know. There are days when I wonder if it's worth it, when I forget why I bother. I've been told constantly by everyone I've ever met in the wizarding world that it's what I'm supposed to do, so I kind of just follow Dumbledore's lead. But if I'm so driven by the desire to avenge a family that I never knew, how does that make me any better than Voldemort himself?" He swallowed, his voice going gravelly and breaking as he talked. "But then something happens, and I remember that I have to go on, if only because no one else will." He fell silent for a moment, brooding.

Draco was taken aback by his stark honesty, but waited passively for Harry to continue.

"For the most part, I do it for the ordinary people with their normal lives who are barely aware of what's happening. I do it so that they can continue to worry about small things like how much school books are going to cost this year and what they're going to study for NEWT's. The thought that I might live to see my kids live that humdrum, average life makes me not want to give up..." He grazed the backs of his fingers over the picture and finished so quietly that Draco wasn't sure who he was talking to. "It's all the little things that I can't really put into words."

Draco lapsed into silent thought for a moment, feeling something suspiciously like sympathy coiling in his gut.

"I answered your questions. Why are you really here, Malfoy?" Harry's eyes were once more sharp and clear, the sadness and pain hidden from view.

Draco had always been an exceptionally articulate and eloquent individual, but found himself stuck for words. He opened his mouth to speak, only to sigh when he realised the perfect words weren't going to roll from his tongue. "I know you think I'm an evil, soulless git, Potter. You're probably not wrong, but I do have some vague form of conscience. It's a foreign concept to you, but I've been raised into the innermost circle of command, my parent's beliefs were ingrained into me." He frowned at his clumsy speech and turned his head to look out the window into the night. "I wanted to hear how the other half lives." He said softly.

Before Harry could respond, he heard in the distance the soft _snick_ of the deadbolt on the front door sliding home. He raised his head in alarm, looking into Draco's saucer-wide eyes. No acknowledgement had been made of it, but Harry knew that Draco's presence here was utterly forbidden. If he were discovered, the punishment would be severe enough to make even Harry's toes curl.

"How did you come here?" He whispered.

"Broom." Draco mouthed.

"Were you followed?"

Draco started to shake his head but stopped, suddenly unsure.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice floated up from the hall, and they both exhaled in relief. He motioned Draco to get up and they moved to the door. Harry led the way down the hall, lifting aside a tattered purple tapestry and waving Draco through. "This will bring you out into the kitchen. Once you hear Ron and Hermione up here, run for the door."

Having made sure that the tapestry was again perfectly in place, Harry stepped across the landing, leaning over the third floor banister, watching two wand lights move slowly up the staircase.

"You alright, mate?" Ron stopped in front of him, shuffling his feet awkwardly whilst Hermione eyed him sympathetically.

"Yeah, fine." Harry mumbled, mulling over the night's happenings in silence.

"We thought you might like company." Hermione smiled briefly, cautious of impinging on Harry's grieving time.

He nodded absently, deep in thought.

They exchanged a meaningful look and Hermione said something about putting the kettle on and Ron pretended to want to talk to Kreacher. Harry took no notice, waving his hand to show his vague assent and returning to his silent vigil on Sirius' bedroom floor.

Why had Draco Malfoy risked his life just to come and hear why Harry fought against everything he believed in and his entire way of life? More importantly, why had Harry protected him and helped him escape?

**A/N: My apologies for the un-beta'd 5am writing... Reviews are greatly appreciated. ;)**


	2. The Great Divide

**A/N: Hey kids, sorry for the ridiculous delay but among other things I wrote a completely different chapter 2 before changing my mind. I'm going to try my best to update every second weekend, but don't hold me to it! :3 Thank you to Wild-eyes99, MirrorFlower and DarkWind, Miko Dono, nannily and JustSmileAndBeHappy for reviewing and that. :)**

**Miko-Dono – Thank you, and you actually gave me a bit of a separate idea there! I probably won't ever work with a beta on this (or anything); I'm really weird about letting people read stuff I've written. Also, the vast majority of my literary ponderings are done during the wee hours, so brace yourself! :P**

_***July 19**__**th**__**, summer preceding 7**__**th**__** year***_

Ottery St. Catchpole was but a blip amongst the surrounding trees as Harry flew over it at nearly 2AM on a clear summer's night, channelling all his concentration into maintaining his Disillusionment Charm. He skimmed the tops of the trees, keeping an eye out for the clearing the note had described. His heart sped in his chest with exhilaration at how utterly forbidden his behaviour was, and he couldn't help but laugh quietly to himself.

He alighted onto the spongy moss gently, hiding his broom amongst a thicket of shrubs and taking a seat on a rotting tree stump. He didn't have long to wait. Within a few minutes, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck alerting him to a presence.

"Before you ask; I wasn't followed, no one was awake when I left and I wrote a note saying I went for a fly. Happy?" Harry said all in one breath and waited for his companion to become visible.

Obligingly, a luminescent blonde head appeared metres away in the moonlight, grinning from ear to ear. "Merlin, Potter, I've missed you!"

Somehow they flowed from being a few metres apart to touching, holding, reassuring, seemingly without having moved. They turned on the spot and, with a resounding _crack_, were no more.

…

Harry was woken by sunlight streaming through a chink in the curtains across his eyes. Momentarily blinded, he felt around for his wand, instead coming into contact with something warm.

"Is there a reason you're waking me at this ungodly hour?" Draco mumbled at him without opening his eyes.

"Sorry, sun woke me up." Harry croaked out, his voice thick with sleep.

Draco sighed and extracted his wand from under his pillow, flicking it mutely in the general direction of the window. The curtains obligingly slid closed. He yawned and stretched like a cat, settling against Harry's side, resting his chin on Harry's chest. He smirked in that lazy, self-assured way that he knew Harry loved.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Harry asked.

"Are you going to keep me waiting all day?" Draco trailed his fingers south, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Just can't get enough of me, huh?" Harry grinned, feeling his blood begin to flow downward.

"Well, I don't entirely hate you." Draco smiled and kissed him quickly.

"Oh... That's awkward. I actually can't stand you." Harry kept his face completely straight, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself smiling.

"That's not what you were saying last night." Draco made a big show of sitting up and stretching, pretending not to notice when the sheet slid off his body. "But if you're sure..." He started to move away and reach for his dressing gown.

Harry growled, lunging across the bed and grabbing Draco by the waist, rolling him onto his back and kissing him aggressively. Draco smiled against Harry's lips, secure in the knowledge that only he had such an effect on him. Pleasing as they were, such thoughts were soon swept entirely away by his talented lover's ministrations, entirely forgotten in a haze of blissful sensation.

Some time later, when his breathing had again returned to normal, Harry rolled over to face Draco. "We can't stay, can we?" He already knew the answer, but he couldn't help his wistful tone as he traced Draco's features with his fingertips.

"No. They'll notice you're gone in an hour or two." Looking straight into Draco's eyes, Harry could see the mixed emotions that lay there.

"Fuck me..." Harry groaned, flipping on to his back and waiting for Draco to scoot in against his body. "Is it bad that I want to run away to Africa with you and never come back?" He turned a long suffering smile towards the other man.

Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I'd burn to a crisp."

"You're supposed to agree with my grand romantic gesture." Harry rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to Draco's hair. The scent of vanilla and strawberries filled his nostrils as he drew back. "Since when do you use conditioner?"

Draco tightened his arm around Harry's waist. "Since I no longer have to shower in the same room as ten other guys, and if you even think about commenting on how camp that is I swear on Merlin's grave I'll stab you."

"Me? I would never!" Harry replied sarcastically. He loved how they could bicker playfully without it escalating into a proper argument, not that he'd ever admit it. Using his index finger, he tipped Draco's chin up, looking him in the eye. Neither of them spoke, instead just absorbing each other's presence as they lay there quietly.

They eventually managed to pry themselves from the bed, getting dressed only to their underwear before Draco lead Harry down several secret passageways and a ridiculous amount of steps into an expansive kitchen. The flagstones were cool against his feet as Harry watched Draco summon everything he needed and light the hob with his wand. Harry remained entirely silent as Draco assembled breakfast, grinning to himself when he heard Draco sing softly as he worked.

He crept up behind him, sliding his arms around the pale torso and resting his chin on Draco's shoulder. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that that's a Muggle song you're singing."

"Your bad influence was bound to rub off on me eventually; it was only a matter of time." Draco bumped his head gently against Harry's as he continued to stir the contents of the saucepan. "It's Mumford & Sons." He conceded with a badly hidden smile.

"Oh, well that makes it perfectly acceptable." Harry teased. Looking around, he was struck by the sheer scale of the basement kitchen. "Where are we, anyway? I tried to ask last night but _someone_ distracted me."

Draco snorted with unashamed laughter. "It was your own fault for asking irrelevant questions, but if you're curious, we are currently conducting our" playful sarcasm dripped from his tone, "illegitimate courtship on my parent's country estate in Lincolnshire. It's usually empty all year except in June, hence the lack of house elves."

Harry nodded against Draco's neck and fell quiet, preferring to simply breathe him in and listen as he hummed. Neither of them felt the need to break the silence; truth be told they probably could have stayed in that exact position for hours on end had Draco not finished cooking and moved out of the circle of Harry's arms.

Draco poured the thick chocolate mixture out onto a plate and sat up on the worktop, facing Harry. "I," he began, taking Harry's hands and pulling him between his spread legs. "Have a present for you."

"Really?" Harry stepped in close to the kitchen counter and pulled Draco against him. "How come?" He felt Draco's foot caress the back of his calf as he dipped his finger into the warm, rich, gloopy dish at his side. He could sense Draco's eyes on him as the digit entered his mouth. Smiling broadly, he looked straight into his lover's grey eyes. "Brigadeiro?" Draco nodded. "That is delicious!"

Draco shrugged modestly, opting for a kiss instead of a reply.

A long moment later they drew breathlessly apart, Draco with a lingering sweet taste on his lips. In a fit of childishness, he couldn't resist painting a broad stripe of chocolate across Harry's cheek. The whole thing, rather predictably, escalated into a brigadeiro fight, each trying to outdo the other as best they could. A truce was eventually made amidst lingering kisses and wandering hands, as unsurprisingly they made their way back to the bedroom.

"Wait…" Draco attempted to convince Harry. "Stop…" He wriggled out from underneath Harry and crossed the room to a mahogany armoire. "Close your eyes!" He ordered with a coquettish smirk.

Harry couldn't help but find the whole display of dominance extremely arousing, and it was with a significant stirring in his groin that he sat back against the pillows and did as he was told, grinning all the while.

There was a light rustling sound from a few feet away and the mattress dipped under the other man's weight. Harry felt his lover scoot farther up the bed and straddle him, adding to the warmth coiling in his lower abdomen. Draco had situated himself so that while Harry could literally feel the heat radiating from his body, their hips were separated by a tiny gap. He knew Draco had done it on purpose, too. The tease.

"Alright, you can look." Harry opened his eyes, only to be startled by how close Draco's mesmerising silvery grey orbs were. His breath caught in his throat and he couldn't help but stare.

"Harry?"

"Sorry." He snapped to and mentally shook himself. "At the risk of sounding cheesy, you are without a doubt the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Clearly you haven't seen much of the world." Draco's tone was droll but Harry saw straight through the coy smile. He knew that Draco secretly loved the way Harry treated him, no matter how much he protested otherwise.

Draco reached behind him and grabbed the larger of two packages and held it out. Harry took it carefully, weighing it in his hands. It was about the size of a quaffle, and sort of… squidgy.

Draco rolled his eyes and told him to get it over with, and so it was with the reckless abandon of a child on Christmas morning that Harry tore into the gift. His entire face lit up like beacon at its contents and he turned his penetrating green gaze on Draco with a massive grin. "You didn't!"

"I may or may not have made a covert trip to Muggle London recently." Draco admitted.

"This is, honestly, the best present I've ever gotten and I've never loved you more." Harry paused to pull Draco tight against him. "Thank you."

He leaned in to kiss him but was rebuffed, Draco clapping his free hand over Harry's mouth as he reached for the other package. "You can thank me later."

Draco pressed it into Harry's hands and leaned back a bit, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Harry affected his best kicked puppy expression but obediently peeled back the layers of Slytherin green velvet to reveal an ornamental pocket watch.

It was simple and functional; plain tempered silver almost the exact same shade as Draco's eyes on a short chain. Confused, Harry looked questioningly at his lover.

"It's an old wizarding tradition to give a man a watch for his seventeenth birthday, and if you were engaged or betrothed then you'd normally receive it from your partner." He noticed Harry trying to open it and his smile dimmed, somewhat. "It won't open, no matter how hard you try. When the Dark Lord first rose to power it became customary for wizards like you to lock messages into commonplace items in case the Death Eaters got to them, and I wanted you to have one from me."

Still slightly confused and a little bit worried, Harry looked straight into his troubled eyes. "Are you worried something is going to happen to you?"

Draco shook his head, as if doing so would alleviate his sudden melancholy and gave a slightly pensive smile. "No, no, I'm fine. I just… wanted you to have a piece of me to take with you for when we're apart. It won't open for anyone but you; you'll know when the right moment is." He reached up to cup his face in his hand and kissed Harry fleetingly on the lips.

Harry understood what he'd said, and more importantly what he hadn't, and allowed himself to get wrapped up in everything that was Draco Malfoy for a moment. All too soon, though, the moment had passed and they really did have to go. The sun was well above the horizon as they showered with magic instead of water and hurriedly dressed, apparating back to the spot where Harry had left his broom.

Their goodbye was fleeting, nowhere near as long as either would have liked, but one could hardly consider any part of their situation ideal. "I won't be able to see you for your birthday." Draco told him, his tone laden with guilt.

"I'd guessed as much." Harry gestured to the bulge in his jacket where he'd stored Draco's gifts. Moments later they parted ways; Harry made his way back to The Burrow as quickly and discreetly as he could, hoping that no one had discovered his absence. The windows of the lopsided house he'd come to consider home were still dark as he stowed his broom in the shed and crept inside, slipping back into his and Ron's shared bedroom with a skill he'd been perfecting all year.

Changing back into his pyjamas, he retrieved the note from his pillow and tapped it with his wand. _"Incendio."_ All evidence of his nocturnal excursions expunged, he slid gratefully into the soft bed, exhausted from lack of sleep. He curled in on his side, feeling a slight pang of loneliness in the otherwise empty bed as sleep pulled him into its' inexorably gentle embrace.

...

With yet another resounding _crack, _Draco apparated back to the country house as near as the wards would allow. He hurried into the house and hastened to set the bedroom and kitchen to rights. He _Scourgified _the sheets and worried his bottom lip absentmindedly while the bed made itself. He wouldn't see Harry again indefinitely, and he was more than a little anxious about what was happening.

While the Weasleys would be celebrating Bill and Fleur's wedding, Malfoy Manor would play host to one of the Dark Lord's infamous gatherings. Besides how suffocating it would be to live with so many Death Eaters for an extended period of time, he was more worried about how vulnerable Harry would be. Most of The Order would attend the Weasley wedding and he was certain that, if they'd gotten wind of it, the Death Eaters wouldn't let the occasion go by unmarked.

He flat out refused to think of the pocket watch, he'd lost more than enough sleep over that already. He still wasn't sure he'd made the right decision, but it was too late to take it back now. He'd known when he laid down the spellwork that it was only going to give him grief later, but it had seemed the only viable option at the time. Such thoughts chased each other round in endless, frustrating circles in his mind while he cleared up the mess in the kitchen. Checking his watch, he found it to be nearly half past seven by the time he apparated back to the edge of the Malfoy main estate.

He strolled across the gardens towards the front door, trying his best to act nonchalant. Letting himself in, he knew any chance of avoiding detection was futile. His mother's high heels were clacking on the hardwood floor of the library, approaching quickly. "How nice of you to drop in. Breakfast?" She spoke blandly, paying no heed to his implied misbehaviour.

Draco nodded and followed her into the small dining room, waiting for the other foot to drop. Sure enough, his mother eventually interrupted his silent reverie with a deceptively gentle gaze. "Draco dear, your affairs are none of my business, but I trust that you are being discreet with this girl you were out with last night?" Draco remained silent, chewing as slowly as possible. "I assume that she isn't suitable for someone of your position if you're keeping her secret, but do make sure that she remains one." With a seemingly friendly squeeze of his hand, she departed to a fanfare of loud clacking.

He leaned back in his chair and dragged his hands down over his face, as if doing so would somehow make a solution apparent. His position was precarious, to say the least, and far too ambiguous, even in his own mind, for him to rest easy. The time for him to declare allegiances had been creeping closer and closer for the longest time, and he worried that the time had finally come for him to burn his bridges.

**A/N: I apologise profusely for the state of the above, but I just couldn't find the right words. :P I debated long and hard (the innuendo is unintentional) about that smut scene, but I thought it was probably too much too soon. Sorry to the slashers among ye. :3 I've just realised that the characterisation is miles wrong. But fuck it, there's no way I'm changing it all now. :P Review if you're lovely enough? :D**


End file.
